


All Down But Nine

by Fluffypanda



Series: From the peaks gigantic, from the great sierras and the high plateaus [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel 1872
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-28
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:56:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072601
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffypanda/pseuds/Fluffypanda
Summary: In which there is a saloon brawl and Tony misses the obvious.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cap Iron Man Community](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Cap+Iron+Man+Community).



> For the prompt: 1872 - Saloon brawl leads to hurt/comfort
> 
> This takes place two years before canon, in other words in 1870.

Steve laid down his cards, revealing a winning hand with a grin.

Bucky tossed a couple of bottle caps Steve’s way. “For someone who says he stands for the law, you’re a dirty, rotten cheater.”

“Me? When have you known me break the rules, Buck?”

“Every damn time we play cards, you humbug!”

It was a quiet night at the sheriff’s office. With no one in the cells to guard, Steve and Bucky sat playing cards at the front desk. The deck was shuffled again and about to be dealt when one of the townsfolk burst in.

“Sheriff! There is a brawl down at the saloon!”

Steve bolted up out of his seat. “How many men?”

“At least half a dozen!”

“Come along, Bucky,” Steve said to his deputy. “I’m going to need a hand.”

Steve dashed down the dark and dusty streets of Timely with Bucky close behind. He hoped against all odds that Tony wasn’t in the middle of all that. It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to take the starch out of him with a beating. Tony had a way of wearing people’s patience thin, Steve could attest to that, and he wasn’t always the most circumspect when he was painting his nose.

As Steve drew closer to the saloon, he could hear the difference in the usual noise coming from the building. Most nights it was filled with music and tired laughter as people attempted to forget their fears, but currently the premises was filled with angry shouting and pained cries.

“All right! Break it up!”

Steve’s bellowing voice was loud and commanding enough to at least give the fighters pause, though not for long. Steve and Bucky jumped right in. Steve went for the couple of clowns smashing someone’s head against the bar, taking them out with a few well-placed punches, then turned to help Bucky with the rest of the crowd. Bucky had already taken out a couple more of the brawlers and with Steve’s help he quickly finished the job.

When the fighting stopped, eight men were laid out on the saloon floor, mostly some of the new workers in town, though there were a couple of known troublemakers in the lot. Tony, thankfully, wasn’t among them. Perhaps he was in the crowd of saloon patrons and ladies of the line huddled off to the side, watching the commotion.

“Can someone please call Dr. Banner? At least a few of these fellas need medical attention and I’d rather not find any more men for breakfast in this town,” Steve called to the onlookers, then turned to his deputy to say, “Buck, can you bring the wagon over while I keep an eye on things over here?”

“Sure thing. I’ll have it right over,” Bucky said, darting off.

Steve went around and checked everyone over for wounds. Besides the man whose head got intimately acquainted with the bar, there was a scarred man with a broken nose, still gushing blood all over his blue shirt, and, most worryingly, a skinny man whose hand was embedded with broken glass. The addle-headed fool probably tried to break a bottle to use as a weapon and now his hand was soaked in his own blood. At least no one pulled a gun and started shooting, the injuries would have been much worse.

Steve heard a familiar groan emanating from underneath a table. With his heart in his mouth, Steve pulled out the heretofore unseen man, and, just as Steve feared, it was Tony. Someone had gotten in a few good punches; Tony’s face was bruised and bleeding sluggishly from a few cuts, but, judging by his scraped knuckles, Tony didn’t go down without a fight.

“That whiskey was stronger than I thought,” Tony mumbled, lifting his head up to try to look at Steve.

“It wasn’t the whiskey that did this to you.” Steve dragged Tony over to the wall and leaned him against it.

Tony seemed content to stay there for the moment, so Steve let him rest. All told, the injuries weren’t that bad, but it still heartbreaking to see. Tony had gone through enough in his life; he didn’t need this too.

“I’m here! Where are the patients?” Bruce ran into the saloon toting his black bag.

“Over here!” Steve called. “We’ve got a nasty head injury, a hand full of glass, a broken nose, and an assortment of minor injuries.”

“I’ll see what I can do.” Bruce kneeled by the man with the head injury and began examining him.

“Thanks. We’re bringing these guys in; can I ask you to come to the office with us?”

“Of course, I’m going to want to keep an eye on this one.”

Quietly, Steve said, “I found Tony, he doesn’t seem too bad off, but you can you check him over to make sure I didn’t miss anything?”

Bruce nodded silently, his mouth curved into a frown. Tony was just as much Bruce’s friend as he was Steve’s, it’s only natural that the news would upset him. After checking Tony over, Bruce reported that Steve’s assessment of his injuries was accurate.

Steve heard the wagon pull up outside. Starting with the less injured ones, Steve began moving the brawlers into the wagon with Bucky’s help. A few of them woke up and had to be led over, but they were too disoriented to cause much trouble. Once everyone was loaded up, Bucky and Bruce hopped into the front seat.

“Buck, I’m going to leave the rest to you and Bruce. Come find me if anything happens.”

“Got it, Steve.”

“Come on Tony, I can patch you up on my own,” Steve said, hoisting Tony up.

Together they stumbled over to Steve’s house. Steve probably would have worried how unsteady Tony was on his feet if it weren’t for the smell of alcohol. Some level of drunkenness was a given for Tony, and it looked like tonight he’d been hitting the bottle hard. Steve wished he could convince him to take it easy.

“You’re a good friend,” Tony mumbled affectionately.

That confirmed it: Tony was definitely drunker than usual.

Once they made it to the house, Steve let Tony collapse on the bed then went to boil some water. Pulling out his small stash of medical supplies, Steve dragged his chair over and began treating Tony’s wounds. He washed them, gently running the clean water over Tony’s hands and dabbing at the cuts on his face. Tony winced, but put up with the treatment silently until Steve took out a bottle of moonshine.

“Is that for me?” Tony said, reaching for the alcohol greedily.

“No, it’s for your cuts. Sit still.”

“Ow!”

“I know it stings. Quit bellyaching,” Steve grumbled. “You got yourself hurt, so you’ll just have to put up with it.”

“Ow! I didn’t get myself hurt. I took exception to someone starting a fist fight while I was drinking and got knocked out for my troubles.”

“That counts as getting yourself hurt. Maybe if you were a bit more sober, you’d be able to hold your own in a fight.” Steve got out his bandages and started wrapping Tony’s knuckles.

“Maybe,” Tony said, after a long moment, like it didn’t matter.

“Don’t you care? How can you just give up like that?”

“It ain’t worth the trouble.”

“You mean you aren’t worth the trouble, don’t you?”

Tony ripped his hands away, scowling at Steve. The bandages weren’t quite fully wrapped and the movement had them coming undone. Steve waited for his answer, but the following silence was telling enough.

After watching Tony open his mouth several times in an attempt to find a retort, Steve pulled Tony’s hands back to finish bandaging them.

“It’s been eight years,” Tony finally whispered.

“Since you stopped making guns and started drinking?” Steve tied off the bandage.

“Since it all went to hell.” Tony brought his hands up to his face. “I keep thinking about it, no matter how much I drink.”

“You can’t keep getting roostered to avoid the past. Stop thinking you can.”

“Stop thinking you can to turn an old mop like me into a tee-totaller. You’re barking at a knot.”

“I’d be satisfied with you staying sober before noon.” Before Tony could respond, Steve continued, “Now, mind telling me what the fella who did this to you looks like?”

“You’ve got plenty of witnesses to the crime; you don’t need to ask me who started the brawl.”

“Just tell me.”

“Big, scarred face, blue shirt, that’s all I got.”

“It’s enough,” Steve assured him.

“Sheriff! Deputy Barnes sent me for you! Hurry!” Someone shouted from outside.

Tony waved Steve away. “You’ve done your duty here, go take care of business.”

Steve hated the thought of leaving Tony, but he had a job to do. He needed to make sure the people in this town answered to the law. It was the only thing standing between them and chaos.

Steve ran out the door and muttered to himself, “Duty has got nothing to do with it.”

**Author's Note:**

> Glossary of Old West Slang:  
> All Down But Nine - Missed the point, not understood. This referenced missing all nine pins in bowling.  
> Humbug - A deception, hoax, imposter.  
> Take the Starch Out - Extinguish one's conceit, widely applied to weakening, refuting or deterioration  
> Paintin' His Nose - Getting drunk.  
> Man for Breakfast - A murdered body in the streets at dawn. Commonplace in the early days of Los Angeles and Denver. Also used to describe certain saloons when men were killed the night before. "Lambert’s only had two men for breakfast.”  
> Roostered - Drunk. "Looks like those cowboys are in there gettin' all roostered up."  
> Mop - A habitual drunk.  
> Tee-Totaller - A thorough temperance man, who avoids every kind of ardent spirits, wine, and beer.  
> Barkin' at a Knot - Doing something useless; wasting your time, trying something impossible.
> 
> from: http://www.legendsofamerica.com/we-slang.html


End file.
